e's poetry

the last couple of months, a local poet came to the school and taught the children poetry.  she gave them examples, and helped them come up with their own creations.

4.24.18

My name is unicorn Lee

My name is Silver and Pink cobra and that’s me.

My name is barfing lion coon.

My name is jump over the moon

My name is holler to the starts

My name is give a hug to mars

My name is eye ball wisker coca

My name is licorish moca

My name is hero lair

My name is sit-down chair

My name is poetry is cool

My name is yoga tool.

5.8.18

I prefer roller skating

I prefer elextric yellow over monton gray

I prefer art over math

I prefer family

I prefer friends

I prefer love to hate

I prefer unicorns because of their horn than snails because of they’r slowness

I prefer Ms. Nye over worms.

5.15.18

I opened you and out came a alien.

I opened the alien and out came someone.

I opened the someone and out came love

I opened the love and out came uniqueness

I opened uniqueness and out came sadness

I opened the sadness and out came life.

I opened the life and out came a unicorn.

I opened the unicorn and out came a spirit.

I opened the spirit and out came a boy.

I opened the boy and out came lonlyness

I opened the lonlyness and out came hope

I hoped the hope and out came love.

The magic box

Inside of my box is as yellow as the morning sun.

My box is as big as the mouth of a chipmunk.

My box hides the memory of my dog droping her hard bones down the nice wodden stairs.

My box sounds like the crashing waves of the beach. Going forever and ever.

It’s outside is velvet and red.

Inside is the love of my family.

I shall fly on my box to the country of China.

My box holds the memories of old and new. It holds love and friendship.

Eating the Moon

Darkness runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I am eating the moon. The astronaut staring in horrer as the moon disipers into my mouth. His eyes are wide, then he faints. A birdy comes into view. I start to tweet and twitter. I fluter and flap in the brease.

5.22.18

A poem is imaginary land

A poem is a good calm story

A poem is beautiful bird

A poem is the sound of sadness crying and crying forever

A poem is the smell of peppermint

A poem is the taste of the tastiest chickin-leg

A poem is a joyful story to share with your friends.

Do not break the school and turn into an turbo car that can go on any surface unless a firebreathing monster that can go on any surface is chasing you and throwing firebomb’s at you. You should electricity turbo laser eyes and blast him so hard that he fizzes so hard that falls into a vortex of colors and re-apers 5,000,000,000,000, solar-systems away. Then he is a nerd.